Shaken
by DCdreamer55
Summary: Thoughts and feelings and words fly around in her head. Clint. Coma. If he wakes up. If. She can't settle for an if, she must have a when. She has to pull it together, but she seems to be shaking even more. But she has never experienced this type of emotional pain before, and finds herself unprepared to fight the invisible foe. She clenches her fists tighter,and falls to the ground


Shaken

**A/N: Well, I just completly fell in love with the Avengers and Clintasha. so I couldn't help myself, this just came to me. I sould be studying for exams, but oh well. This is the longest one-shot I have evcer written, but there is posibbility of me continuing, it depends on the reaction I get to this, so tell me your thoughts. You should all be proud of me, this is almost 4500 words. Yeah, be proud.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Sadly :(**

**Well, enjoy.**

* * *

It all begins with a knock on the door.

The Avengers, minus Hawkeye, who was sent on a solo mission by Fury a few weeks ago, and Thor, who is back in Asgrade, sit in the living room on the top floor of Stark Tower.

It has grown to be there home lately, in the past few months after Loki's demise. The rebuilding of many of the destroyed floors is almost finished, but they spend most of their time on the on floor especially for them, the 'Avengers', so it doesn't make much of a difference.

To Natasha, it all feels like home now, so it matters not.

They all sit together, laughing like they are family, with buckets of Chinese food is strew everywhere, and the T.V is on but not being watched. Natasha isn't laughing, but the smile on her worn out face is enough to show that she is happy. Last few weeks have been difficult for her, and everyone can tell, she is worried, and desperately misses Clint.

It all starts with a knock of the door, and Natasha's world is sent tumbling downwards.

It is one sharp rap on the frame of the door, nothing more, causes all of the warriors heads to turn, as well as Pepper's, and Natasha mumbles something like, "I got it." standing from her position on a large black love seat.

She wonders who it is, and secretly hopes it is her partner at the door, greeting her happily after 3 weeks, but she says nothing as she struts over to the hallway door that enters into their floor. She reaches out a hand to grab for the door knob, praying that it is Clint, but knowing that it isn't.

The moment she opens the door to see and unfamiliar man, obviously from S.H.I.E.L.D, she has a horribly wrong feeling form in the pit of her stomach. Something has happened.

"What happened to him?" she asks fiercely, and all of the noise behind her suddenly stops, everyone listening intently to her voice. She doesn't need to specify who him is either, they all know.

"Agent Romanoff." the man begins, and you can tell by the tremble in his voice that he is afraid of what might happen to him if he delivers this news, but he continues anyway, "I am here-"

But he is cut off by Natasha's growl, "What happened to him?" she repeats, even more forcefully, if that's possible, and everyone in the room is up on there feet, closing the distance between them in case anything happens. A low growl comes from Natasha's throat, and she turns to send her fellow heroes a look that is either, 'come any closer and I will kill you' or 'back off, I'm fine' but it is hard to tell.

Tony stands closest to her, only two big strides away, so he can act if needed. Pepper is just behind, looking nervous and attempting to disappear slightly behind her boss and boyfriend. Flanking her are Bruce and Steve, not too close to pose much of a threat, but still close enough.

Natasha assesses the situation and takes a deeps breath, "What happened?" she says again.

The agent at the door, finally getting the hint, cuts all the formal and goes straight to what they all want. "Something went wrong during Agent Barton's mission. He was hurt, and is currently in the S.H.I.E.L.D infirmary, in a coma. It is not known if he will wake up."

There is a loud pop as the door frame Natasha is clutching cracks beneath the force of her grip. Pepper jumps and immediately flees the room. The assassin is breathing heavily, head bowed, she hasn't responded to the man in the suit yet.

Tony murmurs a curt, "Thank you." and Natasha, almost too calmly, shuts the door. "Go." she whispers without looking up, and Steve and Bruce don't need to be told twice, quickly rushing from the room. Tony doesn't move and she doesn't make him because she figures that he won't anyway, so why bother.

Her body moves in deep, ragged breaths, almost shaky as she struggles to obtain the oxygen she so desperately needs. She steps softly away from the door, only to whirl around and send her fist in to the wall next to it with a powerful punch. But this is only to be expected. Tony still hasn't moved.

She walks, almost stumbles, into the centre of the open room, clenching her fists tighter with every passing second until the begin to vibrate. She tries breathing deeply, in and out, to calm herself, but find it only gives more opportunities for her body to be weak.

Thoughts and feelings and words fly around in her head. Clint. Coma. If he wakes up. If. She can't settle for an if, she must have a when. She needs to stay calm, she has to pull it together, but she seems to be shaking even more. Stay calm, you can do it. But she has never experienced this type of emotional pain before, and finds herself unprepared to fight the invisible foe.

She clenches her fists tighter, and falls to the ground.

* * *

Tony Stark has seen many things, but he must admit that seeing the Black Widow angrily punch a wall, with tears in her normally bright blue eyes, is a first. And he doesn't want there to be a second.

Tony thinks that she might be frozen in undeniable shock, petrified in horror, until he takes a closer look a realizes that she is shaking. He can see it now, but only if he squints, but it is there. A slight tremor that rocks the assassin's otherwise strong body.

He backs away, giving her space and himself some room to think. Clint is in a coma, and he might not wake up.

Her body begins to shake more violently, and he would go try to help her if he didn't think she would blow up if he got near, or break completely. She is vibrating. Her whole body a mess of trembling limbs.

He wonders what would be more frightening, seeing the Black Widow explode or break down.

Suddenly she collapses to the ground, legs giving way as she tumbles to the floor is a sobbing heap. He watches her carefully as she weeps tearlessly on the into her lap, body moving violently as if she is going to be sick.

She screams out in total emotional agony and Tony decides right then that seeing her break down is so much worse.

* * *

There is no doubt that Black Widow is one of the strongest women alive, and she knows that, but then why is she finding it so hard to force her legs to more her downstairs and into the car that will bring them to S.H.I.E.L.D.

They all go, and there is no argument what so ever when she climbs into the black van first. No one speaks, which is surprising, but she can feels their eyes on her back from the front seat, but makes no move to acknowledge them, or even frighten them into looking away. Right now, she doesn't care at all, she must get to her partner. She must get to Clint.

She practically sprints from the car when they pull up to the base, throwing open the door and rolling out of the still moving vehicle. She stands and dusts herself off, walking briskly into the front hallway and down by the elevators, the others trailing behind her.

The elevator ride up in long and awkward, the tapping of Natasha's foot the only sound present in the otherwise silent car. Nobody dares to make a move towards the very on edge assassin, afraid of what might happen if anyone should provoke her.

Natasha stares blankly ahead and tries to appear more together then she truly is. She is the first one out of the elevator when it stops, gracefully walking through the hallways.

She struts up to the nurses' desk at the front of the infirmary, and the nurse at the desk says, "Room 23." before any of the warriors can even open their mouths. And the assassin takes of down the hall, her breathing still ragged and uneven.

There are doctors in front of the door to his room, and she wordlessly pushes past them and enters the much too white room. She suppresses a shiver, she has always hated hospitals, too white and pristine and unwelcoming.

She must restrain herself from running to his bedside when she opens the door and sees him laying in the hospital bed. Looking far too weak and helpless for her liking.

She calmly, or as calmly as she possibly can be, walks over to his bed side, sitting lightly on the edge of the bed. Banner is talking to the doctors, and she tries very hard to listen to their conversation but finds herself unable to concentrate. She catches some words like, "bullet wound" "head injury" and "stable".

She let's out a long breath of air at the last one. Stable. He is stable, for now.

Without looking at anyone she quietly asks to be left alone with him, and there is still enough power in her voice to make them obey her request with no questions. They silently trickle out of the room and Natasha doesn't move until she hears the definite click of the door closing.

All at once her mask slips away and found behind it is a very broken woman. Her brows furrow in pain and frustration, her bottom lip jerking slightly as she fights the urge to cry. She can't cry, she mustn't.

She moves herself to sit in the uncomfortable plastic chair set up beside him, knowing that this is where she will stay until he awakes.

"Come back, Clint." she whispers forcefully, almost pleading, "Come back."

_Be okay_, she thinks, _come back, hold on._

She trusts that he is listening, she knows that he is fighting to return to her. She is sure he will make it. _Please, wake up._

Natasha reaches out to take his hand in hers, lacing their fingers together until the two half's almost form a whole. _I need you, wake up. _

She is one of the strongest woman alive, she should be able to stop her hands from trembling.

But they still shake.

* * *

Pepper Potts, out of all people, can understand what it is like to see the one you love nearer to death then anyone would prefer.

She, also being the only other woman, can most connect with what Natasha is going through. The difference, between all the times Tony has been hurt and with Clint now, is that Pepper has always been sure that Tony would come back to her, always had a bit of hope, but Natasha is growing more and more uncertain in every hour that passes.

The other woman can see how the light in her eyes, that sheer fiery determination, becomes dimmer and weaker each minute that her love fails to wake.

Yes, love, Pepper can tell that the Black Widow and Hawkeye have feelings for each other, she has known all along. She wonders what it is like, not knowing if he will wake up, not being able to tell him how she feels. Her heart aches for them. She is one of the only people that the Russian will speak to, even if it is only a few small words at a time.

"I wonder," Natasha says with a hoarse voice when Pepper brings her food after she has been in that overly white room for 16 hours, "if he knows."

Pepper figures that she isn't suppose to ask about what she means, but she dares to anyway, "Knows what?"

"Everything." Natasha replies, her usually strong tone wavering, you can even hear her shaking in the way she talks, "That he may be dying. If he knows how much I-we, we need him, how he needs to come back. If he knows how much I," but she breaks off then, stifling a sob.

"It will be okay." Pepper assures her, placing a comforting hand on the still shaking body of the Russian."Don't lose hope." she tells her, and desperately wishes that the shaking in her voice isn't as obvious as the shaking in Natasha's.

* * *

Natasha Romanoff is not someone easily frightened, but the thought of possibly losing her partner scares her to.

That's what she tells people, if they dare to ask, that she doesn't think she could ever find a better partner, that's why she is so afraid. Not because she still has a debt to pay him. Not because she wants to, needs to, pay him back. She is not so scared because she is afraid she will never be able to see his brilliant blue, almost grey, eyes again. Or because she wants so badly to here his voice once more.

And defiantly not because she is in love with him, and she is terrified that he will die and not know how she feels. That he will leave this world and not know how much she cares, and that she will not know if he cares too.

No, that's not it.

She hasn't left his unmoving side since they arrived almost 48 hours ago.

People try to get her to leave. To get some food or sleep or a shower, but she just sends them a cold glare that will immediately shut them up. She won't leave, she can't leave. She has to be here when he wakes up, there is other option. _Wake up._

She speaks to him, when no one is there to listen. She tells him how much she misses him, and how the others are worried. She tells him how much he needs to come back to her. And once, she even chokes out a desperate, "I love you." because that should be enough to get him back. And she has to get it out, just in case.

She sings him an old lullaby from her childhood. First fluidly in a language that he wouldn't understand, and then again in english.

_And the bird sings on  
__I will return by dawn_

_Don't forget me  
Don't be gone  
I will be here when you wake at dawn_

She never let's go of his hand. It is constantly in hers with a white-knuckled grip, fingers intertwined or hands folded together.

At night she climbs into the small bed and fits herself beside him, still trying to keep the nightmares away. When she cuddles next to him, she can almost pretend he is okay.

It is only then when she cries, on the second night, curved against him, she cries. She hasn't cried for years, and the wet, salty drops feel foreign on her cheeks. She shakes with silent sobs wrapped up next to him.

Their always intertwined hands vibrating with the rhythm of her weak, trembling body.

* * *

Bruce Banner, being a doctor, is very analytical and gifted at analyzing situations, and he knows that they are all in a very delicate one at the are all perched precariously on the edge, with her sanity and everyone's safety hanging in the balance.

They all poise themselves as if they are walking on glass, tiptoeing around the broken assassin. And even though he is exceptionally smart, and very much a thinker, he doesn't want to think about what could happen if the archer doesn't wake up. It is too scary a thought.

He looks at the Black Widow as a ticking time bomb, just perfectly set up to blow at any moment. Growing stronger with every passing minute that he doesn't wake. One false move from any of them, and she could blow. And even though they all think they might be in the clear now, no one has seen they entirety of what she is capable of. It frightens Banner, to think of what might happen when she explodes.

But he also sees her as something that not many people associate with her, a human being. A poor, heartbroken girl who is much worse off then she looks to be, and much younger and more venerable then she acts. He feels sorry for her.

And him, as (mostly) human too, can some what understand what she is going through. Now, people wouldn't think that someone like him, a doctor and monster all in one, would know a lot about love, but he can see it.

He sees the way Clint will glance at her, eyes full of longing. Or all of the small looks they often share, and the little jokes that only they get. He sees how Natasha's eyes follow him when he exits the room, or how she is always by his side during battle, and the way he panics if she is only slightly injured.

He can see it, even if he is the only one. He can tell that they are in love, and he can see how this is painfully eating her up inside. He had a chance at love too, long ago, but he lost her, and he doesn't want to see the same thing happen to his friend.

He can even see the way she tenses whenever the doctors open their mouths, the way she flinches whenever someone makes a comment or the hospital machines make a sound.

So when she quietly asks him, "Will he wake up?" in the middle of the second night, her voice so weak, Banner has nothing to say.

He even sees how her body is still, after three days, constantly trembling in her hospital seat at his bedside.

Steve Rogers had always prided himself on how he was so great at reading people, but when he looks at the lost remains of the fiery woman he use to know, he finds himself coming up with nothing.

He was always good at brightening up the mood when things were at there worst, but has no idea what to say when they stand together in the depressing hospital room, the only sounds their breathing and the constant and slightly reassuring beep of his heart monitor.

In the four days their fellow avenger has been comatose, Steve has tried many times to get Natasha out of the room and back into life, but with no avail.

He hates seeing one of his teammates in pain, much less two, and wants badly to help her but doesn't know how. She won't talk to any of them, except occasionally Bruce or Pepper, and Clint, but only when she thinks that they are all alone.

He watches he from outside the hospital room, her white knuckled hand still desperately holding on to Clint's. He wonders if she knows how much her hands are still shaking.

* * *

Nine days.

Clint Barton is in a coma for nine days, and in those nine days, Natasha Romanoff is more terrified then she has ever been in her whole life.

On the fifth day, Pepper comes in again, silently sitting down beside Natasha. Though no words are spoken, in means more then anything she could have ever said.

On the sixth day, she finally leaves the room. Just for fifteen minutes, to get a mug need shower an a bite to eat, but finds herself rushing back to him, worried something has happened. He stays the same, but she never leaves his side again.

He goes into cardiac arrest, on the seventh day. There is a loud beep from the monitor set up near them and she screams before she even knows what is happening. It takes them three tries to get his heart beating again, and she has to run and throw up in the garbage can when all is finished. Whether it's out of fear or relief, she is not sure.

It is on the eighth day that she begins praying. She has long since believed in God, and even if she does, she doesn't think he would ever help someone like her. She is simply not good enough. But Clint is, and Clint deserves to live much more then her. She spends the day cuddled next to him, whispering, "Please Lord, save him. Please Lord, save him." under her breath over and over again.

It is the ninth day, and his eyes have yet to open.

She sits by the edge of his bed, her head bowed and hands clasped together, his tucked in between, trying not to think of anything to painful. The doctors tell her that if he doesn't wake by the end of the eleventh day, they will have to call it. They say it isn't looking good. That it is her choice to make, leaving her alone with that notion, and she doesn't think she is at all strong enough to be trusted with the responsibility of that decision.

If it was truly up to her, she would keep him forever.

It frightens her beyond belief, to think that she might only have a few small days left with him, because it will never be enough time. He must come back, she has to keep him.

_Wake up._

He has to be okay, because if he isn't, she won't ever be either.

_Please, Clint. Wake up_.

She can't live without him. She won't live without him.

_Wake up._

He has to open his eyes. She must see them, once more at least, to last her through the years if he passes on. He can't leave. At least not yet.

_Open your eyes, Clint. Wake up._

She didn't even get to say goodbye.

_Clint. Wake up._

Her hands continue shaking. Come on, he can't go, don't go.

_Open your eyes._

He has to live. She loves him. That should be enough.

_Open. Your. Eyes._

She feels it before she sees anything else. The whole atmosphere of the room shifts, as if the tension is being lifted, and she feels a slight pressure between her hands. No, not pressure, a squeeze. Andagain.

He is squeezing her hand, he is holding her, he is alive.

She quickly bolts upright into a standing position, the chair skidding sets behind her and falling to the floor. She squeezes his hand, a fast little pulse, and he squeezes back. He is responding, he is waking up.

"Clint!" she whispers hopefully.

There is a loud beep from the heart monitor, and for a second her heart drops down into her stomach because she thinks something has just gone horribly wrong. But then he takes a sharp intake of breath and his stormy eyes snap open.

He is awake.

"Clint!" she shrieks loudly and everyone standing outside comes rushing in the room to see her joyfully wrap her arms around his neck, embracing him tightly. His arms are there too, snaking themselves around her waist and pulling her closer.

She pulls away, arms still around his neck, and looks into his eyes, "I thought I had lost you." she says, struggling to fight back more tears, "I was afraid."

He raises his eyebrows, "The Black Widow? Afraid?" he mocks and she not-so-lightly smacks him on the shoulder. "Don't worry." He says more seriously this time, "I will never leave you."

A genuine smile graces her features, and for once in her life she is truly happy. No one else says a word, they give them this moment. They deserve it.

And he leans forwards to lightly touch his lips to hers in the sweetest kiss she has ever experienced, much more meaningful then one fast and full of passion. He breath hitches and she feels weak at the knees, she doesn't even care that everyone is watching, for she fully kisses him back, savoring the feels of his lips brushing against hers. Even after nine days in the hospital, he still tastes like sour lemons and the dirt of battle. She loves it, it tastes like Clint.

He pulls her back into a deep hug, and whispers softly in her ear, "I love you Natasha."

She grins wider, nodding slightly, and breaths, "I love you too," so quiet that only he canhear.

She is still shaking, but this time it's from the happiness.

* * *

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